Youth

Rock music festivals are supposed to be dead, according to conventional wisdom, killed by the huge fees demanded by the stars, the gate‐crashing habits of the fans, the court battles fought by property owners and law enforcement officials, and the deaths, drug abuse and general misery that have accompanied so many of these youth gatherings.

So, what were 35,000 people doing at an ocean front farm in Puerto Rico about 33 miles from San Juan Easter weekend attending the Mar Y Sol or Sea and Sun pop music festival?

And why did most of the participants leave declaring that the three day event—marked by a violent murder, mediocre music, delays, confusion, sunburn and a ‘clash of two cultures—was a success?

“It was a success, ask the people,” said the festival's 31‐year‐old guiding guru, 309‐pound Stephen Alexander (Alex) Cooley of Atlanta, Ga., on Tuesday, the last day of Mar Y Sol. “But I'll never hold another pop festival again,” he continued, noting that he and his investors stood to lose more than $200,000.

“It was great, but the next time we will hold it and make all the profits for the people here,” said a young Puerto Rican, who identified himself as a member of a revolutionary group that wants the Commonwealth of Puerto Rico to become an independent nation. He said he liked the women, drugs and music in that order.

“It alternated from being very good to being very tense, from when the music was very good to when there were rumors of local kids going through the camp cutting up people with machetes,” said a 17‐year‐old student from Manhattan, who promptly added he would always consider the festival “one of the most important events in my life.”

“It was Easter vacation for a lot of kids from the States, a free freak show for many local yokels and an illusion for all of us,” said Curley, member ember of Nitzinger, rock group from Dallas.

The weekend abounded in contradictions:

The Commonwealth Justice Department went to court for an injunction to stop the festival, got it, then failed to show up when the injunction was appealed.

Abble Hoffman left the site several days before the festival saying it was an insult to the culture of Puerto Rico and exploitation—though one of the main supporters of the event was the tourist bureau.

Rock musicians, managers, groupies, roadies and members of the underground press used to the late night life of performers were booked into a $70‐a‐day super resort hotel that required jacket and ties after six and stopped serving meals at 9:30 P.M.

One investor said of the one murder, one birth and three drownings: “That's less than if you had the same number of people in New York City.”

Naked girls took showers in open wash stalls and got insulted when Puerto Rican males spent hours every day staring at them.

When it was all over, thousands of the young people remained camped outside the San Juan airport for days because none had confirmed airline reservations home. Had it been worth it? Did they see a new future for the rock festival? Generally, the answer to both questions seemed to be yes, at least until something else comes along.